Two Steps Back
by Falia7
Summary: AU, Timetravel. Things go very wrong, and Percy has a plan to trick the Fates themselves...


_This story is AU. Also, my other stories are still in the works, I've just not had a lot of inspiration for them, lately._

_Prelude_

Percy was eighteen when everything just… went wrong. They'd thought they had defeated Kronos and the Titans. They thought they were locked away—for a long, long time. Gaia, well, she had been returned to her slumber.

… They didn't know how they could have been so wrong.

It was possible for gods to pass on their abilities, their powers and realms of ruling. Pan had done so, but by giving up his ruling to all, in hopes of stirring some kind of revival for a vanishing Wild.

Ares was the first to fall to a Titan's blow—he had rushed in without thinking when Clarisse and her Cabin fell in a single, hideous moment of betrayal and death. The father all had thought didn't care had lost himself to rage at the loss of his children.

He'd killed the maddened dragon that had been summoned on top of the Ares Cabin—and been struck down from behind by a Titan they didn't recognize right away. Badly wounded, wanting only _vengeance_—he had passed on his power to Athena and died.

Camp Half-Blood was wiped out in under an hour, even Chiron crushed by the Titan.

Percy hadn't been there, off visiting his mother and step-father.

Tyson had.

The gods had fought back with all they were, no longer caring to hold the Mist over the eyes of the mortals who would live or die with the outcome of a battle they otherwise never would have known.

Poseidon and Hades were under full siege, and Hades fell first—giving his power to the brother that had always seemed to despise him less. The Underworld and most of the spirits within it were wiped out, those that remained ending up scattered across the planet.

Within days of the surprise attack on Camp Half-Blood, Greek and Roman Demi-gods were all but extinct, even those not yet aware of their heritage hunted down and killed by monsters at the Titans' command.

Some of the lesser gods and goddesses supported the Titans, and the world descended into chaos, elements fighting themselves and each other.

The gods died, and as they died, they passed on what they were until Zeus himself was struck down.

He knew he could not win. Olympus had been destroyed and the Titans had shattered much of the world, killing almost everything Percy had ever known. Too proud to submit—as were all they loyal gods—Zeus made to pass his powers and domains to his remaining brother, who was—while trapped in his under-sea city—still alive.

Somehow, Kronos stepped in, catching most of the power sent towards the sea and claiming it as his own.

Zeus had held nearly all the gods' powers, save Underworld, Sea, Sun, and Moon. Artemis had granted most of her powers and domains to her brother, and the Sun somehow still fought.

Lightning and Wisdom slipped past the Titan, too swift for him to capture, but now he held far more power than merely Time and Harvest.

When New York crumbled, Percy survived, making his way towards a battle between the Titan who had destroyed Camp and Apollo.

And he saw Atlas, somehow free of his burden, manage to strike the Sun Chariot from the sky. Day turned to moonless night.

His father lived, but the sea was in turmoil, tsunamis appearing one after another to smash away the shoreline, waterspouts hurricanes ripping at everything in their path.

Percy did the only thing he _could_ do, diving into the sea and forcing his way to the besieged Atlantis.

…What he came upon was death and ruin, the sea stained red with the blood of those sea-creatures that had fought to protect their Lord, streaked with the gold of ichor—the blood of the gods.

Poseidon, looking ancient and haggard, broken and bleeding gold into the waters around him, was trapped against the seafloor with his own trident. His form flickered, and Percy knew.

There was nothing he could do. He wasn't close enough to attack, and Oceanus had all but reclaimed the waters. No rush of current would deter the Titan.

The eyes of the Sea God fell upon his one remaining son. The only thing left in the world he could even _try_ to save.

In that instant, understanding and _power_ passed between them, and Percy would have fallen to his knees had he not been floating.

_I'm so sorry, my son._

Poseidon was dead, and the sea followed the last command its former Lord had given, whisking Percy away to relative safety.

_xxxx_

Apollo found him, dazed and numb, kneeling in the shallows of a willow-sheltered bay.

The Sun God's arrival did little to stir the demigod. Percy was about to collapse, the only thing keeping him upright being the water in which he knelt. Ever had the sea supported him. Even then, as the ocean once more was claimed by Oceanus, the waters lent him strength.

Percy blinked dazedly as Apollo gently urged him to raise his head and held a cup to his lips.

"Drink, Percy," the god ordered.

Percy obeyed, and the familiar taste of his mom's fresh-baked blue chocolate chip cookies filled his mouth.

His mind began to clear. He could process what had happened—barely—but was too tired, too beaten to be angry. He looked at Apollo, keeling in the surf next to him, battered and bleeding ichor from many wounds.

The storms were dying, the sea calming, only the moonless, star-flecked sky and Apollo's own faint glow lighting the darkness.

"It's over," Percy couldn't even recognize his own voice, hollow and broken.

Apollo nodded, "The Titans have won. Most of the world is in ruin—the mortal survivors… one day, they may begin to rebuild."

Apollo's light flickered briefly before steadying, and Percy understood. The god had lost everything but his power and dominions. Though he had gained in both of those… what was the point, if there was nothing left to fight for?

Percy had gained in power, too. Poseidon's parting gift had been his power, all of it. Everything he had possessed before and everything other gods had passed on to him.

Percy could probably take out Atlas in one blow. Apollo, though…

"Kronos took most of the powers and dominions Zeus tried to pass on. I have very little strength left, Percy, but…"

Percy shook his head, but it was an odd gesture. Not like denial or refusing, more as though he needed quiet to think.

Apollo fell silent.

Athena's gift for creativity had been passed to Zeus, who then passed it on to Poseidon. Though demigods could not hold dominions, per say, they could hold power and could be changed far more easily than mortals. More easily than even gods, always balanced between two worlds.

And Athena's power had changed him. He looked to Apollo, god of Prophesy, and all the power he himself held. The dead, the sea, and lighting would all answer to him.

But it was to the sea he now turned, the sea… and prophesy. Percy's eyes lit with a last, desperate hope, and he outlined a plan worthy of the Goddess of Strategy herself.

"Percy…" Apollo stared for a long moment before something like a smirk crept onto his face. Hermes' power and dominions had been passed to the Sun God, and even before that, Apollo had the ability to appreciate a good prank.

"To trick the Fates themselves…" golden eyes lit at Percy's insane plan. "This had better work."

_xxxx_


End file.
